


Hurt/Comfort?

by LaDemonessa



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDemonessa/pseuds/LaDemonessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair have a discussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt/Comfort?

**Author's Note:**

> For Charlene and kk who are sick...and I mean that on _so_ many levels.

## Hurt/Comfort?

by JA Ingram

email: cjjingram@wildblue.net or cjjingram@yahoo.com

Author's disclaimer: More PetFly droppings.

* * *

Hurt/Comfort? 

By JA Ingram  
Sentinel J/B Humor PG-13 

"SNERK!" 

_rustle-rustle_. 

" _sniffle_." 

_gulp-gulp-gulp_. 

"Ungh, ahhhh!" 

Jim looked up from his book, "You okay?" 

Blair stared at him with wide, unseeing eyes as he wiped the snot dripping steadily out of his raw, reddened nose with a tissue, "no." 

"Just checking," Jim drawled as he went back to reading his novel. 

Blair shifted on the couch and swept off the used tissues that were piling on his chest into a wicker basket on the floor next to him. Drooling on himself slightly, he made a valiant effort to reach a pile of papers that sat on the coffee table beside the assorted anti-flu witch's brews he'd been swallowing for the last two days. 

"Want me to get that for you, Chief?" Jim asked, not looking up. 

Blair snorted loudly, wiped at his raw nose a little then croaked, "no." 

"Okay," he sighed and turned the page. 

"Heh..." 

"You say something?" 

"Heh ah!" 

"Blair?" 

"Heh heh heh AH AAAAAAAAACCCHHHHHOOOO!!! _splurp_ " Underneath the handfuls of tissues Jim watched his roommate's eyes go wide. Scrambling to his feet, Blair made his way to the bathroom quickly, his butt cheeks clamped tight. 

"You oka-- _whew_ ," Jim fanned the air in front of his nose with the open book and decided it would be better if he tried to breathe through his mouth for a while. 

Jim forced himself to dial it down a little...hell, a lot. "Whoa, that was definitely a patented Sandburg stink bomb," he muttered. 

Deciding that he really liked his couch and didn't want to risk its future on Blair's sphincter strength, Jim glanced over to see if he needed to break out the cleanser. 

"Thank God for thick sweatpants," he sighed but got up anyway so he could make a dent in the ever-expanding Sandburg sick area. As he half listened to his partner mumbling curses to himself in the shower, Jim began gathering up empty jugs of juice, various glasses, and the hardening Kleenex that fell between the seat cushions. As he started on the coffee table clutter, he noticed the stack of printouts that Blair had been reaching for earlier. "Hey Blair! You dead yet?" 

"no, don' think so," came the misery laden reply. 

"I'm about to re-make the couch for you, you want me to leave these papers by your juice?" 

Blair hobbled out of the bathroom, his hair only slightly damp from the steam, but smelling a bit less ripe and wearing new, thicker sweats and Jim's robe. Briefly, he considered complaining but seeing as it'd already probably been infected with whatever shit Blair caught, he decided he really didn't want it back until it had been boiled in bleach. 

"I don' wanna read," Blair moped then sat down gingerly on the couch, allowing Jim to cover him up with the four layers of blankets and sheets he had drug out of the linen closet earlier. 

Jim shrugged and flipped through the stack curiously, "What is this anyway?" 

" _snerk_ _sniffle_ Somebody from work thought I might like to read some short stories while I was down with this bug from hell," Blair wiped his snotty nose on the sleeve of Jim's robe causing the other man to grimace and hand him the big box of tissues pointedly. 

The body fluid kid dabbed at his leaky nozzle tentatively, "My nose feels like somebody chewed it then spit it back up on my face and I gotta say my ass isn't doin' much better." 

Jim drew back a little, "Very nice image, thank you." 

"You can have it," he groaned and scooted down into his pillow. 

"No thanks, my nose has been tortured plenty." 

Blair glared, "I meant the frickin' story. My eyes ache too much to read." 

Jim shrugged and put the small stack on the arm of his chair for later, "You want some broth and tea?" 

"Yeah," he coughed, "Chicken." 

"Coming right up," he promised. 

"Don' say 'coming right up' to a guy with the flu, okay?" Blair begged. 

"Gotcha," Jim winked. 

**_A LITTLE WHILE LATER_**

_ssssssnnnnnnnerk_! 

_sniff-sniff_

_rustle_

_koff_

_squeak-squeak_

_rustle_

_sluuuuuuurp_ "Ah!" 

_sniff_ _snerk_

_rustle_

The half dead man with the hair from hell looked over towards his obscenely healthy lover who was now completely engrossed in the stack of loose pages, "Whuzzit about anyway?" 

"Hmm?" Jim looked up questioningly. 

"The story--whuzzit 'bout?" Blair managed between wipes. 

"Well, you know that cop show Rafe watches when he's on stakeout?" 

"On that little pocket TV? Yeah," Blair answered, leaning back into the pillow and imitating a leaky faucet. 

"It's about that," he answered. 

" _snort_ _sniff_ Whaddaya mean?" 

"Well," Jim shrugged, "It's that internet stuff that Megan reads when she thinks no one is watching. Y'know, the gay story stuff?" 

"Yeah?" Blair sat up a little, "Anything good?" 

"Not much," Jim sighed. "Don't get me wrong, a couple of these are great, but that stack over there--" he hitched a thumb at the growing pile on the end table, "nuh uh." 

"Like what?" 

"Like what, what?" 

"Like what sucked about them?" 

Jim grinned evilly, "What or who?" 

Blair shot him a withering glare, "Don't even play with me here, what was wrong with the stories?" 

"You are such a crab when you're sick," Jim snickered. 

"Yeah, well fuck you and not in the good way," came the muffled response. 

"They did that too!" Jim reached over to the stack and tossed them to Blair. 

Blair grabbed the papers and frowned, "I don't want to read this shit!" 

"Yeah, well you could have fooled me," his partner chuckled. "I'm in the middle of a good one so either you can read that or drip in silence, okay?" 

Blair muttered a few nasty but unintelligible curses before attacking the pile with something a far sight less than gusto. 

Minutes later, he looked back up, "He's pregnant?" 

Jim nodded, still staring at his own pages, "Guess your bud thought you'd appreciate the references to morning sickness." 

"Or she's trying to give me morning sickness! _kaff_ " He crumpled up several pages and tossed them into his wastebasket. "What psycho wrote that shit anyway?" 

"Same one who wrote the story where..." Jim paused, "See for yourself, it's in there." 

"What? Where?" 

Jim had to hide a grin as his partner eyed the pages strewn on his blanket-covered lap as if they were a coiled snake ready to strike. "It's the one called 'Dr. Love and the Magic Clue Bus' by The Ring-a-Dilly Miss Millie." 

"Look, I only stopped barfing yesterday, okay? I can't believe you memorized that shit," he shot back. "Who the fuck is Miss Ring-a-Dick Shredder anyway?" 

"Hey, it's _your_ friend who sent this crap to you, not me!" He said, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence. 

"Yeah, well Robs is known for her sick sense of humor." Blair shuffled through the papers hesitantly. "You should of seen the _sniff_ _ugh_ e-mail she sent about the lobster." 

"What lobster?" 

"Oh no, I just finished slurping my gruel, thanks. I'll tell you the next time you're looking for Ol' Ralph in the porcelain pain altar , okay?" Blair scanned the page with a frown, "It's about sick people." 

"Yeah, it's one of those..." he thought about it for a minute, "uh, hurt/comfort things or whatever they call it. I think she was going for a theme." 

"No, I mean this is about some sick fucking people!" Blair wiped his nose on his sleeve then held up the page. "This dude--whatzisface..." 

"Kelly," Jim chimed in. 

"What the fuck ever, man--he might as well be called 'Man Without Nads'!" He cleared his throat, making a wet grating noise before continuing, "Anyway, he has the flu or something--" 

"As do you," Jim nodded. 

"No fuckin' shit, Sherlock!" 

"If the smell is anything to go by lately I'd say were fully stocked in the shit department," Jim heckled. 

"Can you shut up for a minute? Thank you. Anyway, as I was saying, he's sick so his loverboy--" 

"Luke." 

"Thank you, oh librarian of smut!" Sandburg pointed a sharp finger to the page to emphasize his next point. "He's so in love with this male version of Camille, who thinks he's dying of a fuckin' _cold_ by the way, that he makes passionate love to him and does _everything_ , _if_ you know what I mean." 

"What do you mean?" Jim asked. 

"I mean," his voice lowered slightly, "we're talking major groinage, man." 

"Pardon?" his partner blinked in amusement. 

"I mean that....let's put it this way: I'm sick." 

"That's a given, Chief." 

"Fuck you. I'm sick and you love me, right?" 

"Yeah..." the older man admitted reluctantly. 

"Yeah well, we hump like bunnies whenever we get the juices flowing, but would you do me at this very moment if I asked you?" 

Jim scratched his head nervously, "This isn't one of those trick relationship questions like 'if I was drowning would you save me first or your brother', is it? I hate those friggin' things." 

"No godammit, but I'll have to remember that one for later," Sandburg glared. "Would you do me? Would we fuck like monkeys on speed if I hitched down my sweats and lubed myself up with vaporub?" 

"Um, do we have to?" came his partner's timid reply. 

"Exactly!" came the triumphant howl. " _I_ wouldn't even come near my ass if I didn't have to. One good sneeze and thar she blows!" 

"ew." 

"Yeah well, I wouldn't do you either right now, so deal." Blair tossed the rest of the pages into the wastebasket and heaved the blankets over his head so he could take a nap. 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" asked the lump. 

"I'll save you the good ones, okay?" 

"Sure," he coughed. 

"Blair?" 

"Yes, what now?" he grumped. 

"I really do love you, man." 

"Yeah, well, me too," came the softer reply. "I even love you when you're being a pain in the ass...and not in a good way." 

"We need to expand your vocabulary," Jim sighed. "Hey Blair?" 

"WHAT?!?" Blair sat straight up, throwing the covers off then grabbed his head with a moan. "ow. not good." 

"I was just going to say that if you really wanted me to, I'd do you when you were sick," Jim grinned evilly. 

"Yeah, right." 

"No really, I'd bump uglies until you croaked, man!" 

"Be still my barely beating heart," the other man moaned. "What's the punchline?" 

"No joke, I'd do anything you asked me to and when you died from multiple, mind and body bending orgasms due to my incredible stamina, I promise I'd spend all that insurance money you left me on flu shots and having your left over snot rags bronzed for posterity." 

Blair blew his nose then tossed the tissue with horrific aim right toward his one true love's balding head, "Start with this one, prick." 

"AH YUCK!" Jim ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. 

"Consider it a symbol of our LURVE, babe!" 

**_ONE WEEK LATER..._**

_snort_

_wheeze_

_kaff-kaff_

"blair?" 

Blair glanced over to the moaning man on the couch, "Yeah Jim?" 

" _snerk_ ugh, uh, can I have some broth?" 

"It's your night to cook, man--HEY!!!" 

"Jus' consider it a symbol of our _kaff_ LURVE!" 

The _kaff_ End 


End file.
